Rhievya: The Stoneheart
by andrnutik
Summary: Before the Doom. When it is time to give a final tear to Baelar's death, Rhievya grieves her brother's departure, accepting fate that she would never marry, never be a mother, never please her family with an heir. "Baelar was a strong warrior, Baelar was the jewel of the family; the pride and joy of a generation, and yet... Baelar died, leaving Rhievya alone. "


NOTE FROM WRITER: That is a short half-story from my scrapbook about a character based on the A Song of Ice and Fire mythology. Rhievya - a Valyrian born that lived before the Doom. I doubt that I shall continue with the idea of her fanfiction, even though, the idea is to show the cause of the Doom itself.

She sought out a desire to please, to bring out the silver in her hair, the littlest details in her gaze - a rising moon, a setting sun should not have been able to throw attention off the girl, absent own desires to be forgotten. The little loss, the yet remaining bump upon her belly threw reminder of what she could not have, of what she gave promise of, yet failed, as a common girl would fail its master. Was that to what she came to? To be considered a slave beneath own roof, beside own brother? The man, and yet a boy, glanced upon desire to become a father before the time permitted by its own, before the marriage, before everything that would shatter hopes and dreams of a young love. Baelar and Rhievya were as one since they were children, a difference of but two years of age, a cause that made them prosper freely, believing, knowing of their common future - a ground shared with joy as time went by. They loved each other, if love is what it was, darkened by shadow of own mind, fogged by frightening thoughts and wishes absent drop of reality. A love unlike to one of siblings, but more resembling two betrothed children. The boy was not born strong, despite the whispers of his greatness presented by the Gods, he grew into it - he grew into being a skilled and fierce Dragonlord, a true image to his father; with strength and wit, a mind of a true leader. Rhievya, on the other hand, grew into something else - her head betrayed her countless times, and heart beat was numb to her ideas. She was a true Valyrian in spirit, yet such matters bent to definitions; she hated with a passion, and loved with a bleeding heart, unsure of what desired and unable to get what she did want. Yet absent logic, they fit each other, becoming two sides of the same coin. His smile melted the girl's rage, controlled her anger, while her touch drove him to a breaking point; she was his heart as he was hers, a heart that soon broke as blood dropped upon the ground and sword transpierced their dreams, taking life from under grip. Baelar was a strong warrior, Baelar was the jewel of the family; the pride and joy of a generation, and yet... Baelar died, leaving Rhievya alone.

"Sesīr daorys ziry ōdrikilza." A manly whisper broke the silver-haired girl's dreams, giving voice in High Valyrian, before continuing the thought. "Sesīr urnēbion zȳhon keliton issa." He stood tall, the man who spoke, his hand upon a body laying by his side, his lips pronouncing words of mourning, saying that the boy's watch has ended now, and that none could harm him any longer. It was his boy, his son that was upon the pyre - the only male that survived first days after seeing sun. He was blessed with but only one, yet the Gods saw fit to give him three daughters - children he did not give care to quite much.

The young girl stood by the doors a moment longer, her heart frightened by the sight of her father; by his trembling voice and tears, that no doubt were scrolling down the softness of his face, if only he would have been facing his daughter to shatter the idea of a man untouched by anything before him, for it was but a day of Baelar's death. Rhievya found herself keeping still, cheeks dry as the day before that, mourning _future_ husband from afar, hidden from the gaze of any that would point and claim her weak.

Was it, though, to be considered as such in days of death and pain beyond a heart's abilities? It was not, but it was to be considered human - a matter that would never be accepted by the woman. And yet tears filled bright eyes each moment she found herself alone, each second no one could hear her weep for a future lost and for a love destroyed. Sleep came hard at nights, and mornings were but blind reminders of the ones when she would sneak into Baelar's apartments as a child would, the painful reminder of the soft voice and the laughter bringing music to the soul. Per times, she would close her eyes and could swear to hear his voice, the words of prosper and promises of love, of the way he would pronounce her name, and the short seconds when her skin would shiver from an inexistent yet desired touch of the man.

_A Golden Dragon died and the whole world would be in mourning._


End file.
